The Spirit of Christmas
by YaoiGoddessNekoJin
Summary: A lawyer, Barry Allen, travels to Starling City to broker the sale of an inn and learns that it is haunted by Oliver Queen, who cannot move on until the mystery of his death is solved. Determined to help the charming spirit, Barry finds himself in an unlikely romance with Oliver. Based on the movie of the same name. Olivarry
1. Chapter 1

_95 Years Ago_

A man walked through the thick snow toward toward a large, elegant-looking inn. As he got closer, a woman with blonde hair stepped out onto the porch, wrapped in a beige fur.

"Laurel." the man breathed out, coming to a stop. He was about to continue walking when a man stepped out onto the porch with the woman. They conversed for a minute before embracing. Feeling a stab of jealousy and heartache, the man stood in disbelief, not hearing the footsteps behind him until it was too late. A blunt object made contact with the back of his head and he fell backwards, laying in the freezing snow and a pool of blood until he took his last breath.

~x~x~x~

 _Present Day_

"Look, Barry..." A man nervously said as he loosened his tie. He and his companion, Barry, were sitting in a nice restaurant, in the middle of their meal, when he began talking. "I don't think this is going to work. I mean, you're wonderful and all, but I just don't think you're in love." the man stopped again and cleared his throat, looking into the green eyes of his companion. "It's not fair to either of us to continue this relationship."

"Oh, thank god!" Barry exclaimed, grabbing his wine glass and draining it, garnering an odd look from the man he was with. "I thought this was a proposal." he said in immense relief.

"I know this may seem sudden, but it's something that's been lurking since the beginning. I know being an attorney is an all-consuming job, but If you wanted us to work, you'd make me a priority." Barry, who had been stuffing pieces of bread into his mouth just nodded along.

"True."

"And, I'm not your priority." Barry smiled.

"You're so not! Also, you're tired of dating someone who hasn't learned how to love."

"I never said that."

"James did. College boyfriend. Sam called me his phantom boy. It was cute, until it wasn't. And Leo said I should go to love repair bootcamp, because of my childhood. Who even knew those things were real?" Barry said with a smile.

"You've...heard this before?"

"Mmm, yeah, lots. But, you know, I'm not going to pretend to feel something I don't. You're so right." Barry said thoughtfully. "I just, don't. Are you gonna eat that?"

~x~x~x~

Barry was sitting at his desk, working on the computer, when his boss, Harrison Wells, dropped a file onto the desk.

"Jocelyn Merlyn finally died."

"And, good morning Harry." Barry muttered.

"Guess why I came to you first." Barry rolled his eyes.

"Because I never have Christmas plans."

"Right. This is mostly just a simple execution of her will." Barry flipped through the file as Harry talked.

"How many assets are there?" he asked.

"Just the one big one." When Barry looked up from the file to give him a questioning gaze, Harry continued.

"Follow me." He led Barry to his office where he had a picture pulled up on his computer. "Hollygrove Inn. Nice, huh?"

"Charming. Who gets it?"

"No heirs. It goes to the trust and the trust wants it sold quickly, before they get hit with taxes."

"By?" Barry asked, leaning down to click through information on the inn.

"End of the year." Barry whirled around, eyes wide.

"That's in three weeks!"

"I know. But, between you and me, Joyce just got moved to Toronto. That means that the Senior Associate position will be up for grabs and, while I can't make any guarantees, I can go to bat for you over Johnson." Barry grinned.

"That's...thank you, Harry."

"We both know it's completely selfish. You work harder than anyone else here and that makes my life easier."

"Okay, I will have the business evaluations done right away, check the books, get an appraiser."

"That's, bizarrely, not as easy as it seems." Harry said, pulling a paper out from a stack on his desk. Barry gave him a curious look that begged him to continue. "I've already hired two companies. Both failed." He handed the news article he had been looking at to Barry. In large letters across the top, it stated, **Hollygrove Inn: Haunted**.

"Oh, come on!" Barry said, voice laced with skepticism.

"I know, but forty-five percent of the population still believes in ghosts. And, as of right now, so do one hundred percent of our appraisers."

"So, we'll hire someone else."

"Already have. Mr. Murray will be at the Inn in Starling on the twelfth and so will you."


	2. Chapter 2

As Barry pulled up outside of the inn, he saw a short, bald man racing back to his car. Getting out, and completely confused, Barry called to the man, who he could only assume was the appraiser he was supposed to meet.

"Mr. Murray?" he called as the man, who, Barry noticed, looked terrified, jerked his car door open and scurried inside. "Wait! Where are you-" It was of no use, thought. Mr. Murray backed out of the driveway and took off down the road. Barry sighed in frustration and looked at the inn. It was beautiful, old, and covered in a thick layer of snow. Curious, Barry made his way down the driveway and up to the front door, which was still ajar from Mr. Murray's swift departure. Barry climbed the steps and pushed the door further open. He walked inside and took in the beauty before him. The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior. It all looked original, gorgeous hardwood everywhere. This place looked like it must have back in its glory days.

"Hello?" he asked tentatively. Sure, he was supposed to be here, but he still felt like he was trespassing. Barry stepped through the foyer and into the next room. A piano sat in one corner of the room, but it was the mantle above the fireplace that caught his attention. Or, rather, the pictures on the mantle. All of the pictures were old, black and white, Barry noticed. He walked down the length of the mantle, taking in each picture on his way. He stopped, however, when he reached the middle one. It was a man standing outside in the snow. He was very handsome and wore the tiniest of smiles. Barry stared for a moment, picking the picture up. He wondered what color the man's eyes were. They were so sincere.

"May I help you?" came a voice from behind him. Barry gasped and jerked around, holding the picture in front of his body like a shield. He barely kept from screaming. There was a man standing in the doorway, tall and muscular. Barry took a moment to catch his breath.

"Hi. Sorry, the door was open." The man stepped further into the room.

"It isn't actually. I'm in the middle of closing the inn for the holidays." That perplexed Barry.

"Closing? Isn't it high season for an inn like this? Why would you be closing now?" The man looked down at the ground then back up at Barry as he took the photo the younger man was still clutching away from him.

"Tradition." He then stuck his hand out to Barry. "I'm John Diggle. I take it you're Mr. Allen."

"Barry, with the attorney's office." he said shaking the proffered hand. "I'm here for the property appraisal."

"Yes, Mr. Murray arrived early. Left early, too."

"What happened?" Barry asked. Diggle sighed.

"It was probably the ghost." he said in all seriousness. Barry's eyebrows shot up and he began to smile, feeling the need to laugh.

"The ghost?"

"Usually is when they leave like that. Though, Oliver's never harmed anyone, every once in a while, he does...assert himself." Barry couldn't believe what he was hearing. This man was talking about a ghost as if it were a scientifically proven fact. Was everyone around here looney?

"Oliver." he repeated the name slowly. "Mmhm, you're on a first name basis with the ghost?" he asked. Diggle shrugged.

"Well, when you've worked here as long as I have..." he trailed off with a laugh. He looked back down at the picture in his hand with a smile. "Oliver Queen." he said, placing the picture back on the mantle. "He once owned this inn, many years ago. It was of the utmost importance to him." Barry just smiled at the larger man like he was crazy. He couldn't help but wonder if something in Starling's water caused mass hallucinations. "Now, I'm sorry your trip has been a waste of time." he said, turning and walking back into the foyer. Barry furrowed his brow, following him.

"No, I'm not done." he said, catching up to Diggle. "I just got here. There _has_ to be some appraiser somewhere who's not going to let a silly ghost story scare them off." he said with a smile. Then, he turned to the inn at large and spoke. "Sorry, Oliver." he said loudly.

"And, where will you stay until then?" Diggle asked.

"Well, this is an inn, so I figured that I would stay here."

"Not possible." Diggle said immediately. " As I said, we're closed until December twenty-sixth. The staff's already gone and I'll be leaving within the hour." Barry smiled and hummed, nodding his head. He was always said to be quite stubborn.

"Well, as executor of the estate, I have a set of keys, so not impossible." Diggle quirked an eyebrow at the brazen man in front of him.

"Inadvisable." he amended.

"Because of the ghost?" Barry asked. "I don't scare easily."

"I'll be leaving soon. You _will_ be alone." Diggle said, as serious as he could get. Barry huffed a little laugh.

"I'm a big boy, Mr. Diggle. Besides, it's only for one night and I'll lock up the place when I leave. But, you know what? You're welcome to stay here with me, if that would make _you_ feel better." Diggle shook his head and smirked.

"Not remotely. I'll be gone, as I always am, by December thirteenth." he said, turning to walk away. Barry, however, followed after him, still asking questions.

"Why December thirteenth?" Diggle stopped and turned around.

"Tradition." he said, walking away. Barry stared after him for a moment before turning and walking back into the room they had previously exited. Why was everybody here so superstitious? He walked over to the mantle and picked the picture of Oliver back up. Something told him this was going to be quite the experience.


	3. Chapter 3

Barry stood in front of the window in the room he picked. He pulled back the curtains and watched as Diggle got into his truck to leave for the season. He still couldn't wrap his brain around why all these people believed in a ghost story. Barry sighed, turning from the window and surveying the room he had picked. It was beautiful. A large, four-poster bed took up a good portion of the room. All the furniture was gorgeous dark wood. Barry decided to explore the rest of the inn as he called Wells.

"So, your appraiser was a bust." he said, walking down the stairs.

" _You're kidding?!_ " came the shocked response.

"Nope, he was sprinting into his car when I got here."

" _So, what's your plan, now?_ " Harry asked. Barry let out a breath.

"Ah, when I get home to Central, I'll hire one of the appraisers we've used before so they're not caught up in the myth of this place." Barry stopped in the foyer to study a picture hanging on the wall that he had overlooked before. It appeared to be cutouts from an old newspaper article. There was a picture of Oliver standing in front of the inn and the article was titled, **Oliver Queen Missing: Feared Dead**. Barry skimmed over the article as he listened to Harry on the other end of the phone.

" _Are you staying there tonight? Have you seen anything_ spooky _yet?"_ Barry smiled and rolled his eyes as he turned away from the picture.

"Don't start."

" _I almost wish I wasn't flying tonight so I could get the update. See if you survive._ " Barry walked over to the front door and armed the alarm system.

"You'll get the update when you get back from the Bahamas. And, I can guarantee you there won't be any ghosts." he said with a chuckle. "Goodnight Harry."

After the phone call, Barry retreated back to his room with a book. He got ready for bed and sighed in comfort as he sank down into the plush mattress. Getting all snuggled under the covers, he opened the book and began reading. After a while, he began nodding off, head falling as he drifted to sleep. He jerked awake when the clock in the room began dinging. Barry cursed whoever created those things and decided it was time to time to put his book away and turn in for the night. Barry put the book on the nightstand and turned off the lamp, laying down and covering up against the chill of the air.

~x~x~x~

As the clock struck twelve that night, unbeknownst to Barry, the door to the inn opened and a man walked in. He was dressed in old-looking clothes and walked over to the alarm keypad, disarming the system.

~x~x~x~

Barry's eyes flew open when the sound of footsteps penetrated his sleep-fogged mind. He looked around for a moment before turning the lamp beside him on. Eyes wide, Barry listened for a moment. He reached for his cell phone, which he had placed on the nightstand, and fumbled with it, knocking it off onto the floor before he was able to grasp it. He picked it up and looked at the time. It was just after midnight. Who could possibly be wandering around at this hour? Diggle had said all the staff had already gone home for the holiday. As Barry was staring at his phone, the door to the room swung open quite violently. Startled, Barry whipped his head around, brows furrowed in confusion and fear when he saw that nobody was in the hallway. He grabbed the letter opener that had been laying on the nightstand and brandished it as a weapon, waiting for the intruder to make an appearance. When no one came into the room, Barry got out of bed and walked to the doorway as stealthily as he could, the letter opener held out in one hand and his phone in the other. He was breathing heavy as adrenaline coursed through his body. He crept down the stairs when he looked and saw the front door closed. He rounded the corner and walked down a hallway, keeping his eyes open for any sign of trouble. Suddenly, a voice called out behind him.

"You're trespassing." Barry whipped around, eyes wide and fear coursing through him. Breathing hard, it took a minute to register that the man in front of him looked exactly like Oliver Queen, even down to the clothes he wore. _This must be some kind of joke._ Barry thought, eying the man. Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to think on the matter as his swift movements destabilized a vase that was sitting on top of the bookshelf he was standing by. It fell from where it was perched and hit Barry in the head, knocking him out cold.


	4. Chapter 4

When Barry came to the next morning, he was laying under a mound of blankets on one of the ornate couches downstairs. He sat up and looked around. What had happened? It took a moment, but memories of the night before flooded his mind. He remembered hearing footsteps and investigating a possible break-in. He had gone downstairs. There was a man. And then, nothing. He brought a hand up to his head. He felt hungover from the blow he had taken. Barry looked at the coffee table in front of the couch and noticed his phone laying there. Picking it up, he threw the covers off of him and moved to stand. Suddenly, he heard a piano playing in the distance. Furrowing his brow, Barry walked through the inn and into the room that held the piano. Sure enough, the man from the night before was sitting at said piano, back to Barry, playing a Christmas carol. After a moment, the man stopped playing and cocked his head toward Barry.

"How's your head?" he asked. Not knowing what else to do, Barry replied.

"Sore."

"Understandable." came the response. The man turned on the bench so that he was facing Barry, who studied the him for a moment longer. He really did look _just_ like Oliver Queen. "Well, you appear, thankfully, no worse off. Which means you can leave. And you should. At once." Barry frowned and stepped further into the room.

"I'm not leaving!" he said. "You're the trespasser." The man in front of him looked down, smirking, before standing and stepping around the piano bench.

"A man cannot trespass on his own property." he said, smugly.

"This inn belongs to the Merlyn trust, which means _you_ should leave before I call the police!" Barry said defensively, shoulders squared and chin raised high. There was a brief pause before the man walked swiftly toward Barry bending over and throwing the smaller man over his shoulder.

"Hey!" he yelled, kicking his legs to try and get the stranger to put him down. Barry was carried all the way to the front door, the man opening it with his unoccupied hand. "Put me down!" The smaller man was dropped unceremoniously to his feet outside and, before he could make a run for the door, it slammed in his face. Barry tried to open it, but it was locked. And, his keys were inside. After a couple of seconds, the man came back to the door, unlocking it and opening it to throw the quilt he had covered Barry with the night before in the other man's face. Barry caught it and stumbled back a bit, frustrated at how his day was going.

By the time the police arrived, Barry had wrapped his lithe frame with the quilt. It was freezing outside. He watched as the officer got out of his vehicle and walked up the front steps.

"Thank you for coming Sir." Barry said as the man got closer.

"No problem." came the reply. After they both got inside the inn, the officer took a moment to question Barry.

"So, he was here when you got up?"

"Yes, but I think he got in last night, because I saw someone before I got knocked out." The officer balked.

"He hit you?!"

"Oh, no, no." Barry rushed to correct. "Just a vase fell on my head." The officer looked astonished and let out a little huff of laughter.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Barry smiled.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be better once he gets out of here, though." he said, seriousness returning.

"Okay, well, uh, why don't you stay down here and I'll take a look around."

"Okay, thanks." Barry said, watching as the officer climbed the stairs.

A few moments later, the officer returned, throwing his hands up to show that he hadn't found anyone and raising an eyebrow.

"He was here, I swear!" Barry insisted.

"Well, he was probably some drifter who came in out of the cold and hightailed it out back when he saw me. I mean, I'll check around the area, though."

"He was dressed awfully nice for a drifter. He wore a tie."

"Well, some do. You might want to, uh, use the alarm system." This caught Barry by surprise. His eyebrows shot up as he spoke again.

"I did! I set it last night!" He hesitated for a moment. "I think." he finished, lamely. The police officer just gave him a look and made his way to the front door. Barry sighed and looked away as the officer left.

~x~x~x~

After the officer left, Barry walked over to the alarm keypad and made sure he armed it this time. After typing in the code, he looked around the area, still confused about the mysterious man that had made an appearance that morning. Barry climbed the stairs and went back to his room, closing and locking the door. He went into the adjoined bathroom to get ready for the day, closing that door as well. When he opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom, he jumped, startled, when he saw the man from before standing in the middle of the room.

"This is _my_ inn." he said, firmly. He raised the keyring he was holding to show Barry. "I have all the keys." He stared at Barry for a moment, studying him, before he spoke again. "I have no wish to harm you. I merely want my solitude, which requires your departure." Barry stared for a moment before running forward to grab his phone off the nightstand and locking himself in the bathroom. The mysterious man's eyes widened at the other's antics and he huffed out an irritated breath.

Inside the bathroom, Barry leaned forward and listened to see if the man left. He jumped when he heard a knock on the door then keys in the lock. The bathroom door opened to reveal the same officer from before. He didn't look very happy... They both went downstairs and Barry paced the foyer, explaining what had happened.

"I activated the alarm and it didn't go off, which means he was _inside_ when you left."

"No, I searched everywhere again."

"You must have missed something." Barry said, crossing his arms over his chest. The officer's eyes narrowed.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"It's fine! Look, I'm not hallucinating! There was a man here!"

"Well, he's not here now."

"Unless you missed him, _again_."

"Or, it's a ghost." the officer chuckled at himself and Barry sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. The officer walked toward the door before turning around.

"Mr. Allen." he began. "Would you like me to wait here until you leave?"

"No, that won't be necessary." He paused for a moment. "I'm not making this up, officer! The man was here."

"I made sure all the windows and doors are locked now. Just, don't forget to set the alarm after me." the policeman said, turning to the door. Barry, who had his hands on his hips now, sighed in frustration and shook his head. After the officer exited the inn, Barry walked over to the door and locked it, looking out the window. He heard a faint beeping behind him and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Turning, he jumped when he saw the same man from before.

"I also know the alarm code." he said matter-of-factly as he set the alarm. Eyes wide, Barry backed up so that his back was against the door.

"Are you going to keep disappearing and reappearing like this?" Barry asked, bravely taking a step forward. The man leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms, a look of consideration on his face.

"Are you going to keep calling the police? I'm pretty sure he thinks it's all in your head."

"Is it? Are you?" Barry asked, not quite sure he wanted to know the answer. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation.

"You tell me." the man smiled. "It's your head."

"I think you're real." Barry said, hesitantly. The man in front of him seemed to ponder that for a moment before pushing off of the door frame.

"What is real?" he asked, walking away. Barry walked after him only to come into an empty foyer. He looked around, narrowing his eyes.

"Stop it!" he yelled at thin air. He walked down the foyer before sighing and turning back around. As he was turning, he came face to face with the framed article he had seen before. Sure, the man _looked_ like Oliver Queen, but that didn't mean-

"Impossible." Barry muttered, staring. Could it be?

"Unfortunately," Barry swung his head around, coming face to face with Diggle. "It isn't."


	5. Chapter 5

"You knew this would happen when I said I was staying here, didn't you?!" Barry accused as he followed Diggle into one of the adjacent rooms. The larger man took off his coat and draped it over a chair.

"I knew it might. Or, you might leave." he said, facing Barry.

"He wants me to leave."

"Maybe you should." Barry laughed, placing his hands on his hips.

"And, what would I tell my boss? Strange things are afoot at Hollygrove Inn and I couldn't get an appraiser? I have a _promotion_ riding on this, you know." Barry stepped closer to Diggle as he spoke.

"Hollygrove should not be sold." came a voice from behind Barry. The young man jumped, spinning around and coming face to face with Oliver's seeming doppelganger.

"Okay, can we _please_ dial down on the whole 'Startling Barry' thing you two have going on?! I have a potential head injury and," he turned back around to Diggle. "Explain to me again how he's a ghost. He doesn't look like a ghost. See?" he turned, stomping over to the man behind him and grabbed his arm, jerking it forward. "You can't touch ghosts!" The man, who Barry was begrudgingly beginning to think of as Oliver, looked down at where the younger man's hand was grasping his arm. Barry looked back at him and released his arm before turning back to Diggle. Oliver just stood there, staring at his arm. He broke free of his trance and looked up at Diggle.

"So, we're telling him, then?" he asked.

"Well, it seems prudent." Barry looked back and forth between the two until he got dizzy.

"Except, I wouldn't believe you for a second." Barry challenged, narrowing his eyes at Diggle.

"And, you're an expert on the supernatural?" Oliver asked sarcastically.

"Just what I've seen in the movies." he said smiling.

"Oh, yes, the cinema. Bit of advice, there's more to life, and the afterlife, than one can find in the realm of flickering lights and pipe organ music." Barry turned back to Diggle with a forced smile.

"Does he always talk like that?"

"At the moment, Oliver is not a ghost." Diggle said.

"Mmmm." Barry hummed with a short laugh.

"However, when the clock strikes midnight on December twenty-fourth, he will be yet again." Barry's expression screamed that he was thoroughly unconvinced by Diggle's explanation.

"How does that work?" he asked. Oliver spoke up from behind him.

"A curse."

"A curse?" Barry whirled around. "You just said 'a curse' out loud and actually meant it."

"How else would you explain this?" Oliver asked sternly. Barry laughed again and rolled his eyes.

"Right now, I'm leaning towards cerebral edema, but I'm really hoping I'm wrong on that. Look, I'm not going to deny that there is a very, _very_ strong resemblance between you and the dead guy in that picture out in the hall, but there has to be some other explanation besides curses and ghosts because there's no such thing." As Barry finished, he turned back to Diggle, who looked like he was getting frustrated with Barry's denial. It was silent for a moment before Oliver spoke up, taking a step toward Barry.

"I'll prove it to you." he said, holding out his hand. Barry studied him for a moment before turning to Diggle, who nodded. He put his hand in Oliver's larger one and the man led him outside. They trudged through the snow and headed toward the gate around the property. Oliver stopped when they reached the large, pillared structure on the edge of the property. He turned to Barry.

"I don't get it." Barry said. Oliver just stared at him intently. "What?" The other man smiled before stepping backwards, Barry's hand still in his. As soon as he crossed into the structure, he vanished, leaving Barry to fall flat on his rear in the snow. Barry looked around, eyes wildly searching for the other man. He got up and brushed himself off, staring, wide eyed, at the space in front of him that Oliver used to occupy. He tentatively stepped under the structure and spun around in wonder. What just happened?

When Barry ran through the front door of the inn, he closed it and turned around. He jumped slightly when he saw Oliver sitting on the stairs.

"Now, do you believe me?" he asked. Barry smiled.

"Yeah. But, if you think I'm leaving now, you really are nuts." Oliver scowled at the younger man and rolled his eyes.

~x~x~x~

Barry and Diggle stood in the doorway to the dining room, watching Oliver polish off a huge plate of food on his own.

"He sure does eat a lot for a ghost." Barry said in amazement. Diggle laughed.

"Says it's more about the sensation. He says all his senses are heightened upon his return."

"Yeah, grilled cheese? I think if I came back from the dead, my first meal would _not_ be a grilled cheese." Barry and Diggle walked into the dining room and Oliver stopped eating for a moment, a look of irritation passing over his face.

"I can hear you." he ground out. Barry ignored him.

"Maybe a chicken vindaloos. Hey, did they have chicken vindaloos when you were-" Barry cut himself off as Oliver grabbed his plate and stood, brushing past him and walking to another seat at the table. "Alive?" Barry watched Oliver go and Diggle watched the two interact with a smile. Barry put his hands on his hips. "Is he always this cranky when he comes back?"

"I wouldn't know. Other than our first encounter many years ago, our interactions are rare and brief." Barry looked at Oliver for a moment.

"Yeah, he doesn't seem chatty." Oliver took a bite of his grilled cheese.

"I can still hear you." he barked. Barry looked at Diggle, who motioned that they should leave. He nodded and followed the older man out of the room and into the snowy outside.

"I'm no expert on curses, but this one seems weird. A ghost, except for two weeks. Why? Did he insult a witch?" Barry mused. Diggle laughed.

"There are no witches."

"Oh, right, 'cause _that_ would be too crazy."

"Oliver doesn't know the reason behind his situation. Only that he came back ninety-five years ago for twelve days and has been doing the same each year since."

"And, he can't leave here." Barry observed.

"He's restricted by the inn's property line." Barry stopped walking and turned to Diggle.

"There's too many rules for this to be random, there has to be a reason behind it."

"Agreed. But, I don't have enough information and Oliver isn't very forthcoming." Barry sighed.

"Why? Doesn't he want to find out? I mean, if it were me, I'd spend all of my free time back here researching until I found out why this was happening to me. And, maybe then I could...break the curse..." Barry said the last part slowly, looking up at Diggle.


End file.
